


The little things (you do to me)

by LilyAmelia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4985659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyAmelia/pseuds/LilyAmelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, nor how, but Clarke Griffin wakes up one morning with the realization that somewhere along the way, she’s fallen in love with her best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a sort-of prompt I found on tumblr (texts from last night), only a little more G-rated: «while I was banging her, her cell rang. She checked to see who it was, answered it, and moaned «i’m dumping you»). Seemed to suite Bellarke, if you ask me  
> (Feel free to be use said prompt in a more... faithful manner. ;) )
> 
> This is a two or three parter, not exactly sure yet (knowing me, probably two).  
> It’s been sitting on my desktop for a while now, and I thought I should at least get this part out.
> 
> And finally, I don’t own anything (god knows how different the show would be if I did *side-eyes JR*).

She can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, nor _how_ , but Clarke Griffin wakes up one morning with the realization that somewhere along the way, she’s fallen in love with her best friend.

She doesn’t try to deny it - there aren’t many things Clarke can’t do, but lying to herself happens to be one of them.

She definitely isn’t thrilled about it, though.

On the surface, Bellamy Blake is the kind of guy - scratch that, he’s the goddamn _prototype_ \- your mom warns you about.

Her mom did, actually. She’d just laughed. The idea had been ridiculous at best, preposterous at most.

Well, _congratulations_ , mom. She isn’t laughing now.

He’s a puzzle of self-depreciation and insecurities held together with brash impulsiveness and arrogance. Add a violent streak a mile wide, and you have yourself Bellamy Blake, the archetypal Bad-Boy.

But, see, she knows him - this grumpy, complicated man. She’s known him and his sister, Octavia, for more than half her life now.

She knows he practically raised Octavia, single-handedly (an adult before he ever was a child), working his ass off to help her pay for college. She’s been a witness more than once to his absurdly massive soft spot for kids (that violent streak of his? Doesn’t stand a chance against his protective one. Cut a little girl in the queue at your own peril.)

She’s got front row season tickets to his historical rants, and she has the fire in his eyes forever burnt into her memory as he berates Hannibal for his lack of strategic nous during the second Punic War (something about cold and dead elephants - she can’t quite recall the exact details as his eyes caught hers at that moment and she remembers feeling like the bright flames she found there ignited something inside her. It made her breath catch a little but she pushed it aside because, well, this was _Bellamy_.)

Also, who the hell gets turned on by the Punic Wars? God, she has some serious issues.

That’s why when Finn - sweet, funny, smart, political science major Finn- approaches her one afternoon with a charming smile and an invitation to grab a coffee, she says yes. Because he looks at her like, maybe he could want her, and she hasn’t felt wanted in a long time.

(She lies. Bellamy looks at her that way sometimes, but then again, Bellamy could make a log feel like a trillion bucks. Somehow, she doesn’t think that counts.)

Anyway, yeah - _Finn._ Coffee. Now.

Finn might be good for her, she muses as the boy in question walks through the door, scanning the diner.  
She raises her hand and gives a little wave. His face splits into a grin when he spots her, and he jogs over, leaning in to deposit a peck on her cheek.  
She’s _pretty_ sure those were tingles she just felt in her toes and fingers.

"Hey Clarke. Sorry I’m late," he grimaces. "Had to have a word with the TA."

Pointing at stack of renal physiology notes before her, notes she promptly starts to stuff back into her bag, she shrugs. "No harm done, kept myself busy."

"That’s good then. So, pumpkin latte?" He raises an eyebrow.

She prefers good old plain lattes, but he’s trying, so she smiles and nods. "Perfect."

With another one of his adorable grins, he heads towards the counter to place their order, and she settles back into her chair. So far, so good.

Finn is ... nice. He’s polite. Not exactly punctual, but she’ll live. Nice ass, too. (Nowhere close to Raven’s, she’s gotta admit, but then again, _no one_ comes close to Raven’s.)

All in all, pretty good start. She thinks he might just be the thing she needed to put Bellamy behind her.

Octavia seems to approve as well, she notes, as she spots her friend a couple of tables away, holding up a thumb in the air. Clarke snorts and shakes her head.

She’s glad Octavia’s here, though. She’d told her about the date, and the brunette promptly decided to make sure 'Finn passes border control'.

She hasn’t told Octavia about her feelings towards Bellamy. It’s _weird_ , and no way in hell is she touching that conversation with a ten-foot pole. Especially when she’s made up her mind now - there wasn’t going to be anything to talk about.

Yes. Bellamy is history.

(Although, _that’s_ an image she definitely should not have put in her mind).

She’s feeling pretty good about herself, and what feels like the monumental decision she’s taken, when a large hand lands on her shoulder and she’s embarrassed to note that the tingles she’d fooled herself into believing were there when Finn kissed her were just that - make-believe.

Bellamy’s breath is hot against her ear as he whispers "He’d better treat you well, Griffin", causing her heart rate to shoot up ( _sympathetic nervous system activation_ , her brain helpfully supplies), and her body misses his warmth as soon as he removes his hand and takes a step back.

And that’s when she realizes she’s never been more wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but this year was crazy busy. Finally got to do some writing.  
> This chapter was hell to write. I LOVE Bellamy, but his voice is hard, guys. So I hope I did him justice.  
> The next and final one is already half written (it's the first thing I wrote for this fic, actually), so the delay shouldn't be as long.  
> Oh, and slightly reducing the age gap between Clarke and Bellamy for story purposes. Sorry if it bothers some poeple.

She looks like sunshine and Bellamy already hates himself for coming here today.

On his day off, no less.

"You’re a bit of a masochist, you know?" Raven smirks when he joins her behind the counter, and he shoots her a death glare.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

"Wildly." She pours milk into the mug of freshly brewed coffee. "If you’d listened to me earlier and oh, I don’t know, _told_ Clarke how you felt, that could have been _you_ sitting over there with her, making those heart eyes you do so well." She sidesteps him and hands the mug to a customer, thanking him and wishing him a good day. "Would you get back on the other side? You’re getting in my way, and you’re not even working today."

She’s right, because Raven is always right. 

Doesn’t mean he has to like it - or heaven forbid, acknowledge it.

Plus, he likes pissing her off. Brutal honesty is the starting point and the foundation of their friendship.

"No, I’m good." A pretty brunette approaches the counter, and he puts on his winning smile. If he’s going to make himself suffer today, he might as well get some fun out of it. "Hi, welcome to the Bean Grounder."

He hates that name so much. That’s what you get for wanting your business to fit in with college kids.

The brunette smiles. Very pretty. (He’s in love, not _blind._ ) "Hi, can I get a double expresso, please? To go."

"Sure." He grabs a paper cup and gets busy. "Haven’t seen you around. Newcomer?"

"Not really. I’m pretty regular actually. Gina." She sticks out her hand.

Waiting for the coffee to brew, he grabs her hand and shakes it. "Bellamy, really nice to meet you. Regular, huh? Weird how I haven’t seen you before."

She sets her forearms on the counter and leans forward conspiratorially, still grinning. "I know why you haven’t seen me around, Bellamy. You’re usually too distracted when Clarke Griffin’s here to properly notice any other girl that comes in."

A shout of laughter behind him snaps him out of his shock. " _Damn,_ G. Well played, indeed."

Seriously, Raven? Not cool. He turns to his ‘friend’ with a glare. "Did you tell _everyone_?"

"I asked, actually. I thought you were cute," Gina shrugs, looking apologetic, "and Raven told me you were...taken, sort of. Then the whole Clarke thing sort of came out."

"She’s a good listener, sorry," Raven unhelpfully supplies. She doesn’t sound sorry.

The Clarke thing. Bellamy can’t help but think there’s no better way to put it. 

He doesn’t believe in love at first sight - no one falls in love at twelve anyway, he thinks. But when skinny, shy, eight-year-old Octavia stumbled home on the first day at their new school, babbling about how her ‘new, _older_ friend Clarke’ stood up for her during lunch break - he was already grateful for this stranger’s presence in his hot mess of a life.

Getting to know and befriending this serious blonde with the most regal eyebrow raise a ten-year-old could muster was the smartest thing he thinks he’s ever done. 

He realizes now that falling in love with her was only a matter of _when_.

He tried to resist, he really did. They  _told_ him being in love with your best friend sucks. 

But four years ago, Clarke decides to take them hiking along the Pacific Crest. As they get ready to cliff jump off the Mound, she grabs his hand, blinds him with a smile that rivals the scorching sun and whispers ‘ _together_ ’. He doesn’t remember taking the jump; it’s all intense blue eyes one second and the next, his feet hit the warm water and his heart explodes.

He’s been fighting a losing battle ever since.

She’s never shown him anything more than platonic interest, however, so he tries to suck it up and deal with it.

And stalk her on her dates with other people, it seems. Super healthy, Bell.

"You know," Gina’s voice breaks through his thoughts. She’s staring at Clarke, head cocked to the side, "I’m pretty good at reading body language. That girl’s _definitely_ had better dates. Hell, I’ve seen her look more interested in class than she does right now. We had art history together last year," she adds, seeing Bellamy’s questioning look.

He sneaks a glance at Clarke and at that moment, she turns. Catching his eye, she flashes him a tiny grin. It feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest. He swallows and diverts his gaze.

Gina grabs her coffee and nods. "Oh, yeah. Don’t give up yet, dude." She pats his hand in comfort, waves goodbye to Raven and leaves.

"She was too good for you," Raven teases.

He lets out a humorless laugh. "Yeah."

Raven grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around. "Oh, come on, Bellamy." She crosses her arms and scowls. "You _know_ that’s not what I meant. It sucks to want someone who’s in love with someone else. I’m just saying Gina doesn’t deserve that. No one does."

She sighs. "The thing is, that’s not your case, okay? The whole world knows you’re in love with Clarke. Well, except her - because when it comes to you, her common sense goes out the window. And for someone so smart, she’s remarkably obtuse when it comes to her own feelings. Now, _you-_ " she jabs him in the chest, "- you make yourself out to be the villain in your own story; you don’t think you deserve to be happy. Well, newsflash, Bellamy. You do. You’re not perfect, well guess what? No one is. Yes, you’re reckless and a little confrontational - not to mention a tad touchy sometimes. But, _Bellamy_. You care so much for other people, with so little regard for yourself. You _deserve_ to be happy."

Bellamy blinks.

Like he said. Brutal honesty.

"She’s right, Bell." Octavia joins them, leaning across the counter. "Great speech, Raven. Didn’t think you had it in you to be all touchy-feeling with big bro here."

Raven shrugs. "Desperate times," she quips, and whacks Bellamy’s shoulder lightly with a dishtowel. Unlike her words, that won’t leave a mark.

Octavia smirks, then looks over her shoulder. "They’re leaving."

The three of them turn their attention to the couple. Finn says something that makes Clarke smile and nod, and he helps her put on her sweater. The elephant on his chest has now decided to lie down and roll around.

"Thanks for the coffee, Raven." Clarke comes up to them, as Finn stays behind, shooting them curious looks.

"No problem. Leaving so soon?" There’s a question in the question that makes Clarke smirk and Bellamy’s jaw clench.

"Just going to walk around. It’s been...nice, I guess." Her slight hesitation is accompanied by a swift glance in Bellamy’s direction. Oh, god, are his palms _sweating_? Get your shit together, Bell. "We’ll see what happens."

As she walks away with a wave, Bellamy's mouth grows a will of its own and he finds himself calling out, "I meant what I said earlier, Clarke."

She pauses and looks back, blue eyes wide. "I know," she says after a second, and her lips curve into a shadow of that scorching smile, like a whisper. Or a promise.

He isn’t sure of anything anymore.

What he _does_ know - although he can’t remember when it happened, exactly -is that it seems the elephant on his chest decided to take up residence somewhere else, because it suddenly feels like he can breathe again.


	3. Chapter 3

"How does it feel to graduate in a few months?"

They’re settled on the floor of Clarke’s kitchen, loose notes and textbooks scattered everywhere.

Bellamy lifts his eyes from his textbook to glance down at the blonde lying on his lap. Her hair is splayed out, and she looks as radiant as the sun itself. He blinks away.

"Weird, I guess. Exciting. I keep being thrust into these situations when I’m not ready - Octavia’s birth, Mom’s death, being fostered by the Millers." He lets out a breath. "This finally feels like a step I chose to take."

She smiles and squeezes his hand. It feels like it’s on fire. "It’s going to be strange without you here."

He laughs at that. "You’ll get used to it. It’ll be like high school. I graduated, Octavia joined; that turned out all right, didn’t it?"

"It’s not the same, Bellamy."

"Isn’t it? It might even be easier. Wells left for Australia back then; it was hard on you. You’ll still have Raven. Jasper and Monty. Harper. You’ll hardly notice I’m gone." She’s lying there, head warm in his lap. A rush of bravery courses through him, and his voice sounds different - lower- when he adds, "What’ll be so different?"

She twists her head to look at him and opens her mouth, on the brink of saying something.

And Bellamy suddenly realizes he doesn’t want to hear it. Because nothing good can come of it, really; he’s long understood that all the nice things that happen come with a price - one he might not always be willing to pay - and bad things just suck.

So much for that fleeting feeling of bravery.

So he says the first thing that pops into his mind, which is of course, "maybe Finn can keep you company."

He doesn’t know why he said it.

Well, yeah, he does - but h’s not happy about it. Jealousy is an ugly thing, and Bellamy is not that type of man. 

At least, he doesn’t _want_ to be.

Clarke seems to have forgotten all about what she was going to say, as she sits up and gapes at him. His lap feels cold.

"What?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "I’m just saying. You looked like you were getting along the other day. How was the end of the date?"

She rolls her eyes and stands up, before heading towards the sink. "It was fine. He’s nice, but it was nothing to write home about, if I’m going to be honest. He hasn’t even called me back since."

"Do you want him to?" He _swears_ he couldn’t care less, but his mouth seems to not give a shit about that.

"There was no...spark." She leans against the sink and takes a sip of water. "Not like there was with Lexa - even though we had our problems, for sure. And sometimes I think there might be something -" she stops abruptly as her gaze falls on him and she blinks. 

"Yeah?"

There’s a beat of silence before she turns away. "Nothing."

Bellamy knows the current tightening in his throat is called disappointment; the sinking feeling in his stomach called dejection, and he decides he can’t stay here - in Clarke’s kitchen, within touching distance of her - any longer. Not right now.

"I have to go, Clarke," he says, standing up. "I’ll see you later."

"Wait, Bell," she reaches him as he nears the door, slips under his outstretched arm and bars his way. "Where’re you going?"

"Octavia has a history test coming up. I’m going to help her study," he lies.

"Octavia’s going to the movies with Harper," she replies flatly. "Try again."

He really has to start thinking about getting a new circle of friends.

She doesn’t let it drop, though. "What’s up with you lately? You’ve been acting strange for the past few days."

"I just have to go, Clarke. Please just...can I go?" He can’t look at her in the eye. He hears the hurt in her voice, and that’s already enough.

"Not until you tell me what’s going on with you. Come on, Bell," she grazes his arm, "tell me."

There’s a pause during which he hears her breathing, soft and steady; his own pulse feels erratic in comparison, and a stray thought crosses his mind. _Now or never, Bellamy._

"You don’t know what you’re asking." He still refuses to look at her, focusing on her fingers around his forearm instead.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"I tell you what’s going on, and things are going to change, Clarke."

He hears a sigh of impatience. "We’ve been awkward, Bell. We’re never _awkward._ You’re leaving soon, and I don’t want us to part on these sort of terms." She huffs, and jerks her hand away from his arm to cross them over her chest. "Anything is better than _this_."

He finally chances a look. Clarke is all crossed arms and pursed lips, crumpled large t-shirt and messy blond locks - and he decides he doesn’t want to look away. Ever. He takes a step closer. "Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine." Another step closer.

" _Fine_." Her tone shifts. There’s a challenge in her blue eyes and it sends a thrill up his spine. _She knows... Maybe-_

One more step, and he backs her up against the door. "Ready for a change?"

He tumbles forward in surprise when she yanks on his collar and pulls him close. "You’re all talk," she growls, before giving one last tug and pressing her lips against his.

Clarke is big enough to admit she’s thought about kissing Bellamy before. More than once, as a matter of fact. She’s seen him kiss other people plenty of times, and Raven spilled all the details after an incident involving a douchey now-ex-boyfriend and many, _many_ shots.

Still, she’s not prepared for this - for the pressure of his tongue on her lower lip and the way her body shivers when his thumb graze the skin above her shorts. It’s intoxicating, and all she wants is _more_. She buries her fingers in his hair and tugs softly.

Bellamy readily responds, cupping the back of her head with one hair and pulling her away from the door with the other, index hooked on the belt loop of her shorts.

She leans her forehead against his chest, catching her breath. "We should have done that weeks ago," she laughs softly.

Bellamy can’t quite believe this is happening, not even when he feels her pulse against his palm, nor when he presses his lips against her hair. "Try waiting years," he lets slip.

Her eyes are wide when she looks back at him. She mouths _years?_ Deciding he might as well be totally honest now, he lifts four fingers. She shakes her head. "You’re a very patient man," she mumbles against his shirt.

He grins wickedly. "I’ll show you just how patient I can be."

Her laugh turns into a gasp when he pulls her closer by the hips. "So, uh... you and me," she swallows as his hands trail up her waist, and she bumps into her tiny, rickety dining table, "we’re a thing, now?"

He snorts. "You really have a way with words, don’t you, Princess?" But his voice is light and teasing as he uses her old nickname, and he pauses to look - _really_ look - at the woman before him. Because though he’s known her for years, a nervous Clarke is a rare and precious sight, one he intends to carve in his mind forever. 

She blushes, a deep red that makes that golden halo of hers pop out even more, and something in Bellamy’s chest clenches at the sight. 

Oh, _ha_ , he is so screwed it isn’t even funny. (Clarke has never been a joke.)

"Yeah," he finally answers her question, leaning his forehead against hers so that the tiny gray flecks in her eyes are all he sees, "if that’s what you want."

He’s a sap, he knows he is, because he’s drowning in those eyes, those stormy blue depths he’s never been able to refuse (though he’s tried, many times, to kid himself he could if he wanted to).

She locks her hands behind his neck and pulls him against her, until he doesn’t think there’s any space left whatsoever between them - Clarke is all curves and _warmth-_ , and then he stops thinking altogether. 

Suddenly, something vibrates against his hip, causing Clarke to arch against him. He’s pretty sure whatever sound he just made can barely be qualified as human. 

"Sorry," she breathes against his ear, and he actually _hears_ the smile in her voice as she (purposely, he knows) reaches between their still-molded bodies to retrieve her goddamn cellphone.

He buries his face into her neck. "Really?" he mutters, nibbling along her jaw.

She lets out a few quick puffs of laughter which abruptly stop. "Shit. Finn."

He stiffens. "He’s got a hell of a timing, doesn’t he? Thinking about a movie night right after this make out session with your best friend?" He hates the coolness of his voice, and the bite he’s given to the last few words but they’re out now, and he can’t take them back. All he can do, as the phone continues to vibrate, is watch Clarke warily as she turns to face him with a furious glare and was that... _exasperation_?

"Seriously, Bellamy?" she eventually spits, the glint in her eyes challenging him. "You want to know why our date was only ‘ _okay’_? It’s because you were in the back of my mind all along. And when I’m around you, it’s like... there’s no one else, Bell. I can’t think of anyone else. God! You’re such an _ass_."

Bellamy’s the first to break the ensuing silence as he pulls her in for a searing kiss. "Answer the phone Griffin," he whispers as his lips trace the shell of her ear, and his hands slip under her shirt. She lets out a hiss. "And put the boy out of his misery."

She manages to tell Finn it’s over - before it ever started, really - barely suppressing a moan when Bellamy discovers a particularly sensitive spot on her collar bone. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, he grabs the phone, ends the call and tosses it behind his shoulder, where it hits a wall lands somewhere in her minuscule living room with a soft thud.

Clarke pulls back and hits him lightly across the chest. "If it’s broken, Bellamy, I swear," she wags her index finger under his nose, "you’re getting me a new one."

He catches her hand and slips his fingers through hers. Bringing them closer to his face, he brushes his lips against her knuckles and revels in the way her entire body shivers under his palm. 

"You should be illegal," Clarke mutters.

"And what exactly are you going to do about it?" he smiles, peppering kisses on the inside of her wrist, her forearm, the crook her elbow.

She can’t stop the laugh that escapes as she pushes him onto the sofa and straddles his hips. Her chest expands and something flutters in her belly at the sight of the mussy-haired man tracing lazy circles on her inner thighs, and she realizes she’s happier than she’s ever been in a long time. 

She can’t remember why she ever thought fighting this - these feelings - was a good idea.

"Stop talking, and I just might show you." She brushes a dark curl away from his forehead and he closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. "After all," she traces constellations on his freckles, "we’ve got four years to catch up on."

He feels decidedly less loquacious after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where I finally use that prompt.  
> This turned out to be three chapters of pure fluff I guess. Sorry for the induced cavities, y’all.


End file.
